


if it's you

by youngkang (misconceptionsof)



Category: SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Chronological, marriage pact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26079217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misconceptionsof/pseuds/youngkang
Summary: “I’ll marry you,” Jinki smiled, voice easy, light, bright. The way it always is. “Let’s give it ten years. If no one has swept either of us off our feet by the time you’re thirty, I’ll marry you."//Kibum was the tide, pulled instead by the sun.
Relationships: Kim Kibum | Key/Lee Jinki | Onew
Comments: 16
Kudos: 68
Collections: Summer of SHINee Round 2





	if it's you

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've written this fic for prompt #76 of the Summer of SHINee: Jinki and Kibum made a pact in college that if they’re both single by the time Kibum turns 30, they’ll marry each other. Kibum is reaching 30 in a couple of months. A, realising he’s in love with B, didn’t want B to feel obligated to marry him because of a pact. As a solution, A starts setting up B on dates. Meanwhile B is confused (and hurt).
> 
> This is a little different than my other fics, so I hope you enjoy!

Kibum was perched on his desk chair near the open window of his dorm room, letting campus street lights cast in. He wrapped himself in one of the school’s blankets, and he watched streams of students travel in packs away from freshman housing towards where all the parties were going to be. Kibum’s lights were all off, just the glow of his CD player was fluorescent blue enough to give his eyes something else to look at in the room.

He was playing an old album earlier to try to cheer himself up, but for a while it had just been spinning around in the player, untouched.

When there was a knock at his door, Kibum jolted a bit in his seat, and his bare foot slipped off to the cold tile. He sucked in a quick breath. “Who is it?”

“It’s Jinki,” echoed through the door.

Kibum walked across, feet cold and sticking to the floor, blanket hanging down from his shoulders and dragging behind him. When he opened the door, Jinki was bright and smiling as ever in the hallway light. “I should get you a key.”

Jinki pushed his way inside, sliding one arm across Kibum’s cold shoulders, the other hand holding a package of double-stuff Oreos. “Or you could just leave your door unlocked like the rest of us.”

“Didn’t want anyone to bother me.” Jinki flicked the light on with his elbow as they walked past the switch and Kibum grumbled, squinting his eyes at the fluorescent light.

He and Jinki both sat down on the bed, opened the Oreo package between them. “Well don’t I feel special.”

The joke, of course, is that Jinki is special. Making friends hadn’t always come easy to Kibum. Having someone he was this willing to be around and be cared for was a big step for him, even if he couldn’t quite communicate it. And there were a lot of things that made Jinki the kind of special that Kibum could lean into, lean on. Someone he trusted would be there for a long time.

Instead of giving a real response, Kibum twisted one of the Oreos apart, scraping the cream with his teeth. “Why aren’t you at one of the parties? It’s one of the last ones of the year.”

“They’re not as fun without you.” Jinki kicked his shoes off and pulled his feet up to the bed, shrugged off his coat. Kibum could feel his eyes boring into him. “Minho told me you were still upset.”

“Well Minho’s stupid.”

Jinki chuckled and swayed, knocking shoulders with him. “He cares.”

“Well, he’s wrong. I’m not still upset. I just don’t feel like being around all that stuff tonight,” Kibum said, voice just mumbling. He hadn’t even convinced himself but was still determined. “There’s nothing to be upset about anyway. People break up sometimes, it’s _fine_.”

Jinki hummed, reclined so he was resting against the white brick wall of Kibum’s room. “I know it’s fine.”

“We weren’t serious or anything,” Kibum continued. He could feel it bubbling inside of him: his need to explain himself. To overexplain himself.

“I know,” Jinki said. He said this often.

To be fair, Jinki usually did know. He usually did have insight; he usually was able to read Kibum’s mind. Jinki somehow knew what Kibum would say before he ever said so, and vice versa.

Kibum twisted in his bed, sheets wrinkling like waves underneath him, finally making eye contact with Jinki. And he knew he looked kind of pathetic like this, hair mussed up and undone, blanket cloaking his entire body, eyes a little red. He could tell he looked pathetic. Even more-so because when he looked at Jinki he could feel him _really_ see him. All the broken parts, all the tired parts, all the parts of him that he’d kept safe.

The thing about that guy, the ex, was that in ten years, Kibum wasn’t going to remember him. Kibum knew this. He was a small fish in what he hoped was going to be a vast sea (if a typical break up metaphor was to be trusted), and he wouldn’t matter.

But he was young, and it wasn’t just _one_ guy. It was what felt like an endless pattern of guys who didn’t know how to take care of him, who gave up on him when he got too emotional, who used him for sex. Who didn’t like him at all. That was the frustrating part.

He didn’t know how to say all of this to Jinki, not with it all still coming together in his head. Not that Jinki needed him to. “I’m tired of guys,” is what he was able to come up with.

“Guys are _trash_ ,” Jinki said, crinkling his nose, poking Kibum in the knee. It was meant to make him laugh or smile, and it nearly did. Jinki’s good attitude was able to creep up on him sometimes, and he felt it pull at his cheeks despite himself. “I’m sorry the guys you date treat you like shit. You don’t deserve that, you know.”

Kibum pursed his lips, let his fingers travel to where Jinki’s were rested on his leg. “I think I attract it.”

“That can’t be true,” Jinki said, flipping his hand over so their fingers could play with each other. “I think you might just have bad luck.”

“I’m glad my bad luck makes me exclusively attracted to entitled assholes.”

“I think that unfortunately for you, the majority of the guys that go to this school just happen to be entitled assholes. All because they think they’re _so_ talented. I’m sure when you’re a world-renowned choreographer they’ll see how amazing you are. And they’ll finally see what’s right in front of them.”

Kibum grumbled in response. “Well, I’m not worried about becoming an amazing world-renowned choreographer. I don’t care if they see what they missed out on. I won’t care then.”

“Look at that ego!” Jinki pulled at Kibum’s thumb so he’d look up. “See? You’re a little bit entitled.”

“You’re not,” Kibum pointed out.

Jinki smiled. “I’m a rare breed.”

Kibum was silent for a moment, so Jinki squeezed his hand. Jinki spoke again, then. “We’re young. You’ll find someone. You’re impossible not to love.”

He huffed, leaned himself against the wall as well, didn’t let go of Jinki. “What happens when no one falls in love with me, huh? I’m gonna end up a billion years old in a big house with two dogs all by myself, having never had a meaningful relationship, let alone a husband.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jinki said.

“But not impossible.”

“Kibum, you’re _twenty_.”

Kibum huffed, “Indulge me. What happens if nobody ever falls in love with me?”

Jinki was silent for a bit, then, searching Kibum’s face. Sometimes he would do this. They’ve known each other only for a little less than a year, but he always found _something_. Even if Kibum looked away.

He stopped looking away after a while, letting Jinki search as long as he needed.

“I will, then,” Jinki said after a heavy moment.

Kibum blinked. “You’ll fall in love with me? Sounds like rotten work.”

“I’ll marry you, even,” Jinki smiled, voice easy, light, bright. The way it always is. “Let’s give it ten years. If no one has swept either of us off our feet by the time you’re thirty, I’ll marry you. And then you’ll have a big house and two dogs _and_ a husband.”

Kibum sat back up, rolled his eyes, took a bite from his Oreo. “You call _me_ dramatic.”

“I prefer _passionate_. Besides, I learned from the best.”

-

Jinki rounds the corner of Kibum’s apartment holding two bags of microwavable popcorn in his hands, shaking them enticingly. He floats, padding around Kibum’s place in his pajama set and guest slippers like they live there together. Maybe in another life they would.

“Did you pick a movie?” He asks, folding himself up on Kibum’s couch and handing Kibum his share of the popcorn.

Kibum purses his lips, looking back at the screen flickering with a silent trailer he stopped on before Jinki came back. “Everything looks lame.”

Jinki laughs, takes the remote from Kibum’s hands. “I can’t believe I’m picking the movie _and_ making the snacks. I don’t know what you’d do without me.”

“Get over yourself,” Kibum says, poking Jinki in the shoulder. “If it weren’t for me, you’d probably be stuck letting Taemin bother you all night. So really I don’t know what you’d do without _me_.”

Jinki devolves into giggles, something that bubbles up inside of him, something contagious as always. Jinki is very much like the sun, casting down with such consuming warmth and light. Kibum’s never been the type to look away from it.

They don’t really need to put on a movie, but they like the background noise, always have. A lot of times it’s an album, sometimes the one Jinki’s working on, or one they stole from Jonghyun, or the track Kibum’s choreographing to this week. This time they end up picking some random Netflix drama that people have been talking about lately, just so they can say they’ve seen it.

Things are easy with Jinki. They always have been. After ten years of friendship, Kibum was almost afraid that they’d eventually run out of things to talk about, but they never did. There was always something going on with either of their jobs, with either of their families. With the little parts of their lives that they aren’t a part of and share with each other anyway.

It’s a warm July night, and all of Kibum’s windows are open, and a light breeze floats through. And sitting on his couch with Jinki like this makes Kibum feel so comfortably at home.

He has a fleeting thought, just for a moment, when the colors on the screen cast over his face and a warm wind ruffles his hair, that Jinki has always felt like home. In his cold freshman dorm, while visiting Jinki’s house on holidays after Jinki graduated and Kibum was still in school. In Kibum’s first rickety apartment. If Jinki was there, there was always warmth. Like Jinki was a little piece of the sun just for him.

It would almost be an embarrassing line of thought, almost, if Jinki didn’t sometimes look back over like Kibum was his home too. Just for a second.

“You know what I just realized?” Jinki says, apropos of nothing, licking the sweet popcorn flavoring off his lips. There’s still a little bit of powder on the corner of his mouth when he talks.

Kibum’s ears are burning, having possibly been caught staring, only hums as a response.

“We’re only a few weeks out to your birthday,” Jinki raises his shoulders to his ears, excited, like it would have been a complete surprise to Kibum. As if they hadn’t spent nearly a third of their lives together. “Your thirtieth birthday.”

Kibum waits for a moment before realizing Jinki’s waiting for him to say something. “You’re a bit early, but that’s usually what happens this time of year.”

Jinki scooches closer to Kibum on the couch, draped against the back of it, head tilted and eyes glistening. “You don’t remember, do you?”

“No, I think you’re going to have to spell it out for me,” Kibum purses his lips, trying to keep himself from smiling too wide. He likes playing this game too much.

“Do you remember your freshman year? After you got dumped by that one guy?” Kibum raises his eyebrow. “Well, you know, there were a couple of guys that year. But either way, I promised that I would marry you if you were still single by the time you turned thirty. And here we are.”

There’s a moment, where Kibum thinks this might be a confession. Something he’s been waiting for in the background for as long as he can remember. Something he’d resigned himself from expecting. Something that he can’t start expecting now.

Kibum can’t bring himself to do much more than shove his elbow into Jinki’s side, feeling his ears lighting up, heart rabbiting in his chest. “Shut up.”

“I’m just letting you know so you can be prepared,” Jinki says, a strange glint in his eye. The kind of glint that Kibum hasn’t quite figured out yet. “For when I pop the question.”

Kibum feels like he’ll never stop learning.

“You’re not being serious.” It’s not a question.

“I’m a man of my word, Kim Kibum.”

It wouldn’t be a problem if he made this pact with just about anyone else. With anyone else, he would play off the joke, he would laugh with him and joke later about how dumb it would be if the two of them got married.

Even a confession from anyone else would be easier. No matter which way this pact goes, even if it's something that Jinki meant all those years ago, or means now. Something that could be a prank, harmless or sick. Something that would maybe make Jinki realize exactly how Kibum’s felt about him for at least the past few years, if not longer. It's not going to end easy. It's going to be impossibly complicated.

He feels like he’s underwater for just about the rest of the night.

-

“Where the hell is Minho?” Kibum dropped down on an armrest, holding his second cup of something shitty and alcoholic that someone in the kitchen gave him. Jinki looked up, reclining back in the chair he was in, smiling lightly. A little hazy.

“I saw him earlier,” Jinki said, sweet and slurred. Kibum couldn’t quite hear him over the music, but he could feel him. He leaned down as far as he could and held the back of his head to keep their conversation going. Jinki hardly reacted. “Probably with his senior friends.”

Kibum felt it tug at his heart, the way Jinki seemed to melt into the hand Kibum laid at the nape of his neck to gather and hold his baby hairs. Sometimes there was just this draw – like their skin was magnetic, and neither of them could help it. Like it’s only ever minutes before they would crash like waves.

Or maybe Kibum had already had a lot to drink.

He hummed instead of thinking about it, something that rumbled deep in his chest, hyper aware of the way everything in his body was lit like a match.

“For all we know, he could be sleeping with someone in their dorm right now,” Kibum offered, pausing for a moment before continuing. “Hopefully not our dorm.”

Jinki smiled up at him again, eyes blinking slowly. “He’s probably just hanging out with Jonghyun.”

“You don’t know. He could be sleeping with Jonghyun,” Kibum said, pulling at Jinki’s hair. His fingers nearly got caught when Jinki tossed his head back to laugh, his entire body in on it. No one in the party really noticed, and Kibum couldn’t help but feel bad for them for missing out.

“I think you’re projecting.”

Kibum dropped his jaw to seem as scandalized as possible. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jinki twisted in his seat, bringing his knees up to press up against the arm rest. He looked sweet like this, head tilted like a puppy. They were pretty close like this, leaning into each other. “Go up to someone. I’m sure any guy here would probably sleep with you if you just ask them.”

“How do you know that’s what I want?” Kibum asked, swallowing hard like he could taste alcohol slinking down his throat. He felt it singe his ears.

“You keep talking about it,” Jinki laid one of his hands on Kibum’s knees, running his fingers past the bright rips. No matter what he said, he always said it gently. “So you should just start flirting with someone, because you’re clearly itching to get laid.”

“Isn’t everyone?” Kibum took another sip of his drink. He didn’t know why he asked his next question. “Aren’t you?”

“Itching to get laid?” Jinki asked, almost in disbelief. When Kibum nodded he continued. “Not really. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s going anywhere. This isn’t my last college party. It’s not yours either. We still have like two months until the end of the year.”

It was a conversation they’d had before. Jinki would say that Kibum always acts like he was chasing a clock, putting pressure on himself to be the best choreographer, the best dancer, the best student, to lead and to take care of people. Kibum would say that those things just came easy to other people, that he _had_ to work harder to be just as good.

It was a conversation they would probably keep having. Until maybe Kibum stopped being so unsure of himself.

Jinki never seemed to have a problem being sure of him. Jinki had enough confidence for the both of them. He never gave believing in Kibum a second thought.

It was something he never really thought about much until he was pretty drunk.

There were a few things that he only really took notice of when he was drunk or tired or after letting himself think for too long.

And he sat there, hunched over, face level with Jinki’s. And he said, almost like it was pushing its way out of his lungs without asking, “how come I’ve never seen you date anyone?” Because it seemed obvious to him that Jinki would be a good boyfriend to _somebody_. With so much extra love in his heart. It made no sense to him.

And Jinki didn’t answer, almost like the question never made its way out. Their little bubble got popped when someone tapped on Kibum’s shoulder to ask if he remembers him from their shared contemporary dance class, and did Kibum recognize him without his leotard, and if maybe he wanted to do shots in the kitchen. Like Jinki wasn’t nearly touching noses with him.

Kibum went with him, led to the kitchen by a gentle hand on his wrist, assuring him that he’ll be back later on in the night. Only after Kibum untangled his fingers from Jinki’s sweaty hair, not minding at all the feeling of it. Only after Kibum scanned Jinki’s eyes for an answer to his question.

He didn’t ask again.

-

“Well congratulations,” Taemin says, collapsing on the wooden floor. “You’re engaged.”

“Shut up.”

“No I’m serious! This is a really good birthday gift. I think it probably even tops me breaking into your apartment last year,” Taemin’s smirk bleeds into his voice.

“God, I can’t stand you.”

Kibum can feel sweat drip all the way down his back, pressed against the cool studio mirror, dropping his head back with a hard thunk. The music starts up again, playing on repeat, but they let it run while they take a breather.

“So this pact was made before we met?” Taemin asks, reaching lazily towards his water bottle, continuing the conversation they’ve been having in between runs. “I didn’t realize you liked him in college at all.”

“I didn’t. Or at least I didn’t really. I must have realized I liked him in Japan,” Kibum keeps his eyes closed. He doesn’t need to be aware of Taemin’s judgemental gaze. “I think it had probably crossed my mind before but it’s not like I did anything about it. Especially not in college.”

Taemin hums into his drink. Kibum hears him set it down and slink over to sit next to him. “Maybe he liked you back then.”

“Unlikely.”

He scoffs. “Why’s that?”

“You didn’t know me in freshman year, Taemin,” Kibum raises his hands to the bar just to hold onto something. “I was a mess.”

“You’re a mess _now_.”

Kibum punches his hand out to shove Taemin away, ignoring his obnoxious giggling. “Have some respect. You’re paying me right now.”

“Well,” Taemin starts again, stretching his ankles. “Did he sound serious?”

“I guess? He didn’t play it off like a joke, but I don’t know why he would be serious about something like this.”

“Well if he wasn’t being serious then why are you freaking out?” Taemin has a tendency to ask the exact questions Kibum hasn’t figured out the answers to yet. “Because if he’s not being serious, you’re freaking out for no reason. And if he _is_ being serious, then he probably likes you.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m being serious, Kibum,” Taemin starts, and before Kibum can give him another shove he keeps talking. “Maybe he liked you back then, and that’s why he, you know, proposed marriage. And then maybe he _still_ likes you. Which is why he remembers. It's not like being single at thirty is anything to be worried about.”

Taemin is a special kind of creature. He’s incredibly smart, almost infuriatingly so, and very intuitive. He’s a good kid. A constant in his life. Wormed his way into their friend group seamlessly.

And even now, with his sweaty hair plastered to his forehead and his knees pulled up to his chest and his stupid smirk that never seems to go away, he doesn’t seem like he’s fucking around. He doesn’t seem like he’s just presented an out-of-this-world scenario, one that Kibum’s made the active choice for several years at this point not to entertain.

For a minute, he does entertain it. Recognizes that maybe there’s a little part of college Kibum still inside him, one that doesn’t know what he’s doing, and has no faith in himself, couldn’t dream of being treated well. Someone who was built to dive headfirst into his work because he’s good at it and he’s hardworking and talented and doesn’t like being taken advantage of.

Of course he doesn’t want to be taken advantage of. Despite how confusing and long their freshman year was, at least he learned that. Dancing was what he was good at, choreography was what he was good at, learning and teaching and working was what he was good at.

Not everyone is good at dating, and ghosts from their conversation, blurred from memory play in his head: about how Kibum was a magnet for men who didn’t know how to love him, and who didn’t want to.

There Jinki was, though, for the past decade, loving him. Stubborn as the tide.

And there’s a scene that plays in his mind, just for a moment, where Jinki has been there the entire time and still found it in himself to like Kibum back. And not out of pity, or fear, or his own loneliness.

Which. It could definitely just be his own loneliness.

“I’ve never seen him in a serious relationship before,” Kibum says, then.

Taemin blinks, sighs, the way he does when he knows Kibum’s dug himself into a hole so deep that there’s no arguing with him. “And?”

“How could he like me if he doesn't know what he likes?”

Taemin stares in disbelief for a moment. “You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. You know that, right?”

“I’m realistic,” Kibum says, standing up and leaning against the bar with his elbows.

“You could probably just talk to him, you know.” Taemin gets up as well, stretching himself again as the song comes to a close. It’s unclear how many times the song has played in the background, unclear how many minutes Kibum’s been rolling his thoughts around in his head.

Kibum spins a pointed finger in time with the music, encouraging Taemin to start moving. “I will.”

He starts from the top, tripping a little bit on his feet as the song starts, but keeps going with a giggle. Kibum doesn’t even have to tell him that the move was wrong, because he’ll keep going and fix it the next time around.

Taemin doesn’t ever stop. He probably doesn’t know how to keep from moving forward. Everything he does, he does with all the unearned confidence in the world.

But no matter his confidence, he can’t possibly be right about this. Kibum must be.

So if Jinki’s serious about this, Kibum will be too.

-

There was a place on campus that Kibum always went when he needed to be alone. It was never quiet: an artificial stream babbled through a clearing underneath a building that always echoed the sounds of tuning instruments.

It was never quiet but it was always empty. A little bench surrounded by little trees planted to make the clearing look prettier, but Kibum never needed it in the daytime when students were bustling by.

It was past midnight, and Kibum went out in slides and sweatpants, October weather nipping at his ankles, but he liked the feeling of it creeping up and around him. He needed it after the heat from crying.

He nearly walked past the clearing, seeing the shadow of another student on the bench he always considered to be his. It was only when he got closer as he passed that he noticed the shape was unmistakably Jinki’s.

Kibum breathed, cold and jarring and tasting of rain, and he could hear himself over the tuning of a cello and the bubbling of the stream, and Jinki looked up, almost impossibly small.

They’ve become such good friends over the past several months. Jinki’s seen him cry before once or twice, but he’s not seen Jinki too emotional. Kibum couldn’t tell if he was just someone that was more private with his emotions, or if they weren’t quite as close as Kibum thought they were.

But Jinki looked up at Kibum with a sweet smile, the sun shining at midnight, and motioned him to come over.

He padded over to the bench, sat next to Jinki, who had his sweater stretched over his knees and his feet up to huddle for warmth. “Are you cold out here?”

“I’m okay,” he said, which is just what Jinki said sometimes. Kibum wasn’t sure he always believed him.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Kibum asked, resisting the urge to reach over and rub his fingers into Jinki’s cold ankles.

Jinki smiled softly this time. “Something like that.”

They were quiet for a moment then, because Jinki doesn’t always need to talk to keep Kibum’s attention. Sometimes Kibum would just watch the way he would take deep breaths and twist his hands around in his sweater and watch the way the stitching pulls.

Jinki looked up after a while and met his eyes, and even with just the light of the moon and the lights that lit up walkways in between buildings every several yards, he asked, “have you been crying?”

“A little,” Kibum said.

“Wanna talk about it?” Jinki asked, leaning closer and slipping his legs out from the sweater to land on the cobblestone ground.

“Not much more than you want to talk about what’s going on with you, I guess.”

On nights like these, where it was chilly and lonely and he missed sitting on his grandmother’s kitchen counter while he helped her cook, he found he wanted to be alone. He’d sit on his big laptop computer that whirred against his thighs and pirate movies until Minho stopped moving around in their room, and sneak out to his little spot where no one ever was.

He knew that he was an emotional person, that he wore his heart on his sleeve, and it was something he had become comfortable with over the years. But he did sometimes find himself shutting the others out, just to hold something to himself for once.

And the air between them was quiet and almost tense. Not enough to be jarring, but enough with the acknowledgement that they were both out here to sulk and be sad alone, and how neither of them could do that.

Very suddenly Kibum felt like he was itching head to toe, inappropriate for intruding on Jinki’s moment, something he had no right to, even if they were friends.

Kibum moved to stand up and felt Jinki’s hand on his wrist, swiftly, almost on instinct.

“Do you ever feel like there’s a lot of pressure on you?” Jinki asked, voice soft. It took Kibum off guard a little bit. He sat back down slowly. “I always feel like there’s this weight on me but I’m expected to stand up straight.”

Kibum heard himself swallow. “I think everyone feels that way a little bit.”

Jinki looked down at his hand, still holding onto Kibum’s wrist.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s not hard. I think that almost makes it harder. The idea that everyone is always being pushed by something, and everyone else seems to be handling it better than you feel like you are.”

“Aren’t they?”

Kibum searched Jinki’s eyes for a hint. “Not necessarily. I don’t think anyone really knows how other people are handling themselves.”

Jinki didn’t let up much, and it took a moment for his next words to wash over him. “You seem to be handling it well.”

“Jinki, I,” he started, a little bit flabbergasted. “I came out here to cry. You know that, right?”

“I don’t mean it like that.”

And Kibum sat quietly for a moment while Jinki came up with the words, trying to figure out a little bit in his head what Jinki could possibly mean. It was funny, because Kibum often felt like Jinki was reading his mind, but Kibum couldn’t do the same. It was a long moment before he continued, and Kibum had to sit and wait a painful moment until the moon reflected off his eye again.

“You are good at dance. You’re passionate about it. Right?” He asked, finally, firmly, looking up to meet Kibum’s gaze. He nodded. “When you get stressed, or upset, or feel pressured, you jump into your work. Even I see that. You do so well with it.”

“You don’t feel that way about singing?” Kibum couldn’t help but interrupt. He still thought about the first time he saw Jinki, the way he looked singing. The way it lit something deep in Kibum’s little orientation-week heart. The way that led to them becoming friends in the first place.

The idea that Jinki wasn’t head over heels for his work might have broken his heart. He could hear it cracking and pattering in the distance. 

“No, no, of course I do. I love it. But I just feel like,” and he paused again, searching. “When I’m run down, it’s harder for me to get that excited about my work, and about learning and singing and doing. And it seems like everyone else just sort of has no problem diving right in. And I can’t make myself do that.”

“Oh, Jinki.”

“And then it feels like there’s all of this pressure on me, to be as productive as everyone else is. I hate that more than anything, the idea that by other people’s standards I’m not doing well enough, I’m not holding together well enough. Even though I’m older than you guys, and I’m fine where I am, I feel like other people might not think that’s enough.”

Kibum caught one of Jinki’s hands playing with his sleeve. A drop of rain fell on it but he didn’t move. “But it wouldn’t matter, then.”

“What do you mean?” Jinki’s eyes twinkled, like Kibum could see all the way through them. In the silence he heard rain falling into car hoods and sidewalks.

“You don’t have to be enough for everyone else. You’re good at what you do. Everyone else putting pressure on you shouldn’t matter unless you’re also putting that pressure on yourself.” Kibum stared at him for a moment. “And I think that it’s admirable that you have that much drive without having to push yourself.”

Kibum felt a raindrop land on his shoulder. And then another. The sound distinguishable from the whirring of the stream and the plucking of strings.

“But I do push myself. And I can handle that. I just don’t like it when other people push _me_.”

And all at once, rain started coming down in sheets, and they interrupted themselves by running towards Kibum’s freshman dorm, slides slapping against cement and brick in the way there.

Jinki was still with him while Kibum swiped his entrance card, breathing heavily, water streaming down their faces from their waterlogged hair.

“I won’t push you,” he found himself saying, over the rain and sound of the buzzer letting him in. Almost as an afterthought. “I promise.”

He felt Jinki’s small fingers tuck hair behind his ear before he ran off to his own dorms, presumably, in the pouring rain. A little clumsy.

And Kibum felt better too, rain and its healing properties. Maybe just with the fact that Jinki seemed to be doing better.

It wasn’t until after he showered quietly, trying not to wake Minho up, and crawled into bed that he checked his phone.

A text from Jinki that read _thank you._

-

Kibum walks into Jinki’s apartment on a Friday after work, when he usually does, because the two of them have spent roughly every Friday evening together since Jinki graduated college, and just because he’s mid-panic he’s not going to cancel that.

Also, Taemin informed him earlier that week that he’s not allowed to avoid his problems by taking in more dance students and working himself until he gets over it, which Kibum will admit does sound like him. But Taemin is right, unfortunately as usual, so he does keep that promise.

He does, however, bring a game plan.

“Jinki!” He calls into the open area once he lets himself in. Jinki doesn’t leave his door unlocked as often as he did during school (all the time), but he did give Kibum his own key, used almost as much as the key to his own apartment. Jinki has one too.

He hears an echoed response from his kitchen. “In here!”

And Kibum can smell it as soon as he shuts the door. He takes his shoes off and slips on his guest slippers as quickly as he can.

Jinki’s in his kitchen, head over a simmering pot, skimming foam off the top of the boiling soup. Kibum sits down on a bar stool in the center of the room, leaning his elbows on the island, smiling fondly.

He doesn’t cook that often, not as much as Kibum, but in the summers Jinki does make them samgyetang. Sometimes he’ll make a big event of it and invite more of their friends, but other times it’s just the two of them.

“It smells amazing,” Kibum says, and it does. Kibum’s more skilled at making American dishes but Jinki always makes the best traditional Korean food.

“I doubled the rice,” Jinki says, a smile leaking into his voice. “Just for you.”

“I love rice,” Kibum tilts his head, almost longingly at the pot.

“I know.” Jinki covers the pot with a lid and leans against the other side of the counter, smiling brightly and taking up his entire face. “We’re celebrating.”

Kibum can’t help but smile in return. He never can when Jinki’s like this.

“And what are we celebrating, babe?”

“You know that song I’ve been writing with Jjong?” And Kibum nods. The two of them had been writing together a few months back while Jonghyun was in the early stages of working on his next album. He’s been sending voice notes and instrumental snippets to their group chat for the past few weeks as he gets closer to the release of it. “He asked me to record for it, so I’ll be a feature on his next album!”

Kibum feels a wave of something wash completely over him. Like his heart might pop right out of his chest if he doesn’t restrain himself. He barrels around the island to hug Jinki tight around his neck. “That’s so exciting!”

“I know,” Jinki says into Kibum’s neck, and he feels it rumble through his entire body. It lights a match on every hair from where Jinki’s pressed his lips all the way down to his toes. “I haven’t been able to work with him since we graduated.”

Kibum pulls back to look Jinki in the eyes. They hold each other like this, stomachs pressed together, Jinki’s arms around his waist, a little bit shorter than him. “What a shame you guys have had such successful careers that you haven’t had the time to collaborate on something.”

“You’re teasing, but it is a shame,” Jinki says, cheeks pink.

“Any chance you’re going to tell me anything about the song?”

Jinki giggles, bright and bubbling against Kibum’s ribcage. “Not even a little bit. But I hope you like it when it comes out.”

“Of course I will,” he says, because of course he will. Kibum can’t imagine not liking anything that Jinki or Jonghyun create.

They hold each other like that for a moment, and Kibum lets himself forget about what he’d planned on coming here to do, just for a moment, resolved to wait until the food was served. So he could pretend like Taemin might be right about it all.

Especially when Jinki says, in his sweet voice: “I think it must be coming out around your birthday. It might even top the ring I’m going to get you.”

Kibum feels his ears light up, entirely red. He almost doesn’t feel hungry anymore.

So it’s after the meal that Kibum starts his plan.

They’re cleaning up, washing and drying dishes, playing music over the speakers so they can dance and sing to it while they work.

As naturally as he can, Kibum looks over at Jinki while he dries a plate and hands it over for Kibum to put away. “Hey, Jinki, you remember my friend Woori?”

“Yeah?”

“I went out for lunch with her earlier this week,” Kibum starts, clearing his throat.

“That’s nice,” Jinki smiles, sincere. “Is she doing well?”

Kibum’s eyes flicker back to the stack of dishes in the cabinet. “She is, actually. Her and her ex broke up a couple of months ago and she said she wanted to get back out there. I said I’d help her out.”

“You think you’re some kind of matchmaker,” Jinki says, which is what Jinki’s been saying since he meddled with Jonghyun and Minho, but at least that didn’t backfire on him. “Do you know who you’re setting her up with?”

Kibum clears his throat. “I mean, I figured. You’re single. Are you free Sunday morning?”

Jinki stops drying his dish and gives Kibum a look he can’t quite read. “Yeah, I’m free.”

“Great!” Kibum says, straining a bit in his smile. “I know you haven’t really been in a relationship in a while. And Woori’s so sweet. And I haven’t set it up, yet, or anything, so you can say no.”

This is the out. This is the part that, if Jinki wasn’t just looking for someone to spend his time with, he could decline. Or, in the back of his stupid mind, this is the part where Jinki could say he’s been in love with Kibum all this time, and he couldn’t possibly go on a date with someone else.

Jinki dries off the last dish and reaches across Kibum to put it back in his cabinet.

“You’re right. I guess I haven’t been on a date in a while,” Jinki smiles, small and sweet.

Kibum takes a deep breath. “I’ll let her know, then.”

The song playing over the speakers changes, and shocks them out of a silent moment. And the rest of the night is the same as any other Friday night, except this time, when Kibum leaves well past nightfall, he gives Jinki Woori’s phone number on a piece of paper with a little heart.

-

Jinki was hunched over a textbook and his laptop in the far corner of the library by the time Kibum got over to him. He brought with him his own textbook (for his first semester final on music history, which he’s not all that concerned about), a water bottle (because Jinki sometimes forgets to hydrate himself) and a bag of sweet potato fries that Jinki likes (honestly, just as a gift). From the way Jinki’s hair was ruffled and his eyes were wide, he looked like he deserved it.

“How are we holding up?” Kibum asked, voice a little low. They were in the library, but this area was typically for study groups to work together.

Jinki’s eyes, which had been pretty downcast, brightened immediately at the bag in Kibum’s hand. “I’m doing fantastic now that you’re here.”

“I’m flattered, but I know you only love me because I brought you a snack.”

“And company!” Jinki added, reaching his arms out for the bag of fries. “Besides, I’m not trying to get your boyfriend jealous.”

Kibum dropped his bags on the table, sliding the water bottle over to where Jinki’s notebook was. He suppressed a smile at the mention of his boyfriend. It had been a newer development, and a little risky to jump into something right before the semester was over, but he was excited.

“No, he’s sweet,” Kibum could feel himself blushing. He almost had the middle school gut-reaction to hide his face in his textbook. “And he knows you’re not in love with me, though it is hard to believe you could possibly restrain yourself.”

“I don’t know how I’ve managed,” Jinki said, almost entirely monotone if not for the brightness in his eyes. He munched happily on the fries before returning to his computer.

“I mean, what do I know? You could be getting propositioned left and right. Boys lining up at your dorm bringing you sweet potato fries,” and then he said, after a second: “Or girls.”

Jinki breathed out his reply: “Either.”

Kibum smiled back at him, then. Sometimes it felt like Jinki was a book that Kibum didn’t know quite how to read. Or maybe a book that liked it better when people didn’t try to open in the first place. There were other times like this one, where Jinki just seemed to open himself for him.

They were relatively new friends, and Kibum was unsure whether he was allowed to feel like breathy late-night library confessions were monumental steps in their friendship. If he was allowed to feel like their friendship was going to be monumental. But he did.

“Well if there’s people of any gender lining up for you, Jinki, I don’t know why you’re still single.”

Kibum’s thought this a couple of times since they’d met. Since he’d seen him, really. There was some kind of pull about him that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Like Kibum was the tide and Jinki was the moon. But that metaphor didn’t quite fit them.

Jinki was much more like the sun, anyway. Lighting up the corner of the library with just his smile.

It was with that smile that Jinki spoke again. “Maybe I’m waiting for someone to really catch my eye. Ever think of that?”

“What would they have to do to catch your eye, Lee Jinki?” Kibum asked, clicking his highlighter pen, just to do something with his hands.

“I don’t know. I guess I’d like someone who isn’t afraid to be genuine with me,” he started, pursing his lips. “Someone who will trust me and talk with me. Someone who has drive. Beyond that, I don’t really know. But I’m young, I guess I’ll figure it out.”

“A man with simple taste,” Kibum said, stealing a fry. “After my own heart.”

“And what is your own heart after?” Jinki asked, reclining into his chair, uncomfortable and wooden. “And don’t just describe your new boyfriend. What is it really after?”

Kibum had to think about it for a moment, because it felt like a lot. Of course he’d thought about it a lot. When he was younger it was simply, _any man who was interested_ , and now that he’s grown older and there seem to be more people around him who would be interested, it did sort of feel like he was struggling to find someone who caught his eye in the same way.

“Someone self-assured. Someone who makes promises and keeps them. Someone who values honesty and doesn’t mind that I’m as blunt as I am,” he said, after a while.

“Someone who can keep up with you,” Jinki added.

Kibum blinked. “Someone who wants to. Who doesn’t just give up, you know? And likes all of me. Someone who’s willing to sweep me off my feet when I want them to, and someone who knows when I want them to.”

He rambled a lot, when he felt comfortable, when he wasn’t going to be judged for being disorganized. Only when he didn’t feel self-conscious about it. He didn't feel self-conscious about it with Jinki.

“Someone as dramatic as you are, then.” Jinki said, smiling, turning back to his computer, letting it light up his face. Kibum started highlighting his textbook then, shaking his head and deciding to let the conversation die between them after one more statement.

“I prefer the term _passionate_.”

-

Kibum sits in a coffee shop across the street from a park exactly halfway between his and Jinki’s apartments. He has two iced coffees sitting on their usual table, along with a sweet pastry.

This morning he woke up with a text message that outlined exactly how badly Jinki would need a coffee this morning. It was unclear if this meant his date last night with Jeongsu went really well or if it went really poorly.

Needing a coffee might have meant that they had such a good date that they went home together, slept together, even. Kibum didn’t really want to think about that.

Or, it could have meant that it went so horribly that Jinki spent the night crying in his apartment. Which he rejected almost immediately. Jinki would have come to him last night if it had gone that horribly. Kibum knows he would have. Jinki always comes to him.

And surely Jeongsu would have told him if he made Jinki cry. Everyone Kibum knows how much Jinki means to him.

Kibum is so lost in thought that he doesn’t even notice Jinki coming in until he’s sat down right across from him, wearing sunglasses and a mask, looking a little bit miserable.

“Are you hungover?” Kibum asks, a little shocked. Jinki’s been able to hold his alcohol well since they met.

Jinki looks at Kibum over his sunglasses, so Kibum can see his eyes a little red-rimmed. Kibum’s always disappointed when it looks like Jinki’s light’s gone out a bit.

He hesitates before asking his next question. “How was the date?”

Jinki brings the iced coffee to his lips and it visibly relaxes him. He’s a very simple creature, very easy to satisfy. Kibum can’t help but release some tension with him before he responds.

“It was alright,” Jinki says, voice gentle but low. Still a little strained.

“Where did you guys end up going? And did you have fun?”

“We went to Blue Moon. And it was a nice place, actually. We should go sometime,” he starts, pausing to get comfortable in his chair. He looks like he’s holding back from saying something, but drops it. Kibum doesn’t push, either. “And it was fine. We listened to some jazz and drank. I guess I drank more than I thought I did.”

Kibum nods. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Jinki takes time to wake up on a good day. He’s never been a morning person. Any time Kibum’s dragged his friends along for a day trip to some island or shopping destination, or the time he had a dancing class in Japan that he wanted to take where Jinki went with him, he was always walking like he was waterlogged until he was fully awake.

And Kibum couldn’t complain about this. Jinki was cuddly, sweet, warm like this. He would wrap his arms around Kibum’s waist and bury his cold nose into Kibum’s neck, or just hold his hand and fall asleep on his shoulder for the plane ride. He’s always been peaceful and lovely when sleepy. It was one of the things that made him fall for him.

So Kibum’s used to asking Jinki questions and waiting for him to get the energy to answer them, because Jinki’s always attentive. And he always cares. So Kibum is always patient.

“I think it was a nice date,” Jinki said, still holding something back. “He was a gentleman. Listened to me ramble to him. Took me back to my apartment and got me some water and aspirin before he left. He was very nice, but I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again.”

Kibum deflates a little at that, unsure if he’s allowed to react that way. “Why do you say that?”

Jinki scratches behind his ear. “I think I was being pretty needy all night. It was probably a lot for a first date. And I don’t know, I guess I’m not that interested in him. Guess he’s not really my type.”

Kibum thinks on that a little bit while Jinki starts picking on the pastry that’s sitting in the center of the table. Kibum hasn’t really known what Jinki’s type was. He’s only gone on a few dates since Kibum’s known him. And Kibum’s sure he’s been in a relationship, but never anything serious enough for Jinki to talk to him about.

And then a few years ago, around the time Jinki accompanied him to Japan, he stopped even really going on dates.

Kibum did too, to be fair. But that was also around the time Kibum really realized that what he wanted was right in front of him.

“What is your type?” He ends up asking. It’s a risky question. Comes from a part of him that’s bold and hopeful that Jinki would say something simple, like _you_.

Jinki’s hardly like that, though. “I guess I’ll know when I find it, won’t I?”

Kibum takes a deep breath. There’s something in Jinki’s eyes, still. Like an unasked question or a caveat he just won’t say. And Kibum can’t read any of it. These days answers seem farther and farther away when it comes to Jinki. Like Kibum’s doing something wrong but he can’t pinpoint what.

He doesn’t end up answering quickly enough, flipping over the rolodex in his brain of friends who are single and loveable and good enough for someone as bright as Jinki. Someone who will be even sweeter to him, take care of him while he’s drunk the way Kibum would have if he was there.

It’s selfish to think like that, though, and Kibum knows it. 

Jinki interrupts his thought process. “How about we talk about Jonghyun’s song?”

It’s as easy as that for Kibum to push it back in his brain.

“I think you mean Jonghyun and Jinki’s song,” he says, easily, trying to search Jinki’s expression for whatever he’s missing.

And Jinki cracks a smile. And it’s easy again. Jinki’s bashful and sweet and gentle, and even the smallest smile could make Kibum feel like he was being invited in closer to him. Every day, like the tide.

-

“You’ll like them, I promise,” Kibum said, adjusting the bracelets on his wrist, leading Minho into the area of the café that he’s been meeting Jinki for lunch the past few weeks. “I’ve only actually met Jonghyun once but you remember him, right?”

Minho pressed his lips together. “How could I forget Mr. Kim Jonghyun Original?”

Kibum rolled his eyes. “Play nice. He’s very charming, I’m sure you’ll love him.”

“It feels like you’re introducing me to your parents. It’s not that serious, Kibum. If they’re any less annoying than you, I’m sure we’ll get along.”

He couldn’t really pinpoint why he was nervous about this. Minho was a fixture in Kibum’s everyday life, even if on some days they didn’t see much of each other until they crawled into their dorm beds. Lots of nights Minho would stay light in the studio, practicing his composition. Or Kibum would be staying late renting out a dance room.

He especially did this when he was under a lot of stress, so especially around midterms, Minho didn’t even see much of him.

And Jinki was -- it was even harder to explain, maybe. What about Jinki made Kibum feel like he’d found a lifelong friend even after only knowing each other for a short while, he couldn’t pinpoint.

Maybe it was the way Jinki let Kibum pick fries off his plate, or walk with him to the bathroom when they found themselves at the same lecture and Kibum didn’t want to go alone.

Kibum had spent the first few months since the beginning of the year feeling a little bit out of his element, missing his one close friend from high school who’d gone to do engineering. And he got along just fine with Minho, but becoming friends with Jinki and then Jonghyun just felt different.

They made him feel less lonely. Jinki especially.

“Whatever,” is what Kibum landed on as a response.

Jinki and Jonghyun were already eating when they got to the table and set their plates down. Jonghyun had bleached his hair since the last time Kibum saw him, and he couldn’t help but coo over it.

Minho said he liked it before he started picking around his rice bowl with his chopsticks. “It’s nice to meet you guys. Kibum’s been keeping you two all to himself.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re always at the gym during _my_ lunch hour.” Kibum felt his ears light up while he stared down directly at his own food. He heard Jonghyun laugh, almost as big as Jinki does.

“We’re in our third year,” Jinki said, giggling. “We’re just a little busier. But it’s nice to meet you too. Kibum’s said a lot about you.”

“Oh my God, this is like I’m introducing my boyfriend to my parents,” Kibum groaned into his hands.

Jonghyun pointed his chopsticks at Kibum’s nose, closing one eye like he was measuring him up. “Which one of us is the boyfriend?”

“Whoever wants to be,” he said, tension deflating. He couldn’t help the way it seemed to do that with his friends around. “I’ll remind you that I’m a treat to be around, before anyone declines.”

Minho picked up a particularly big chopstick-full of rice and beef. “I’m going to have to pass. I already live with you.”

“I’ll be one of your parents,” Jonghyun offered, sweetly.

“Alright, nevermind. I don’t think I like this game anymore,” Kibum said, rolling his eyes, picking at the cucumbers Jinki put in his bowl. Jinki didn’t like them, but they’ve come to a decent tradition of him ordering some anyway just because Kibum never seemed to have enough.

Jinki swung his feet at Kibum’s shins underneath the table to get his attention. “I’ll be your boyfriend since these guys are too afraid.”

Kibum smiled at that. “And what do you think of my dads?”

Jinki pursed his lips and faced the other two, eyeing them up and down. It made his face look rounder, sweeter than usual, somehow. “They’re alright, I guess.”

He turned back to Kibum and winked, and Kibum felt relief wash over him.

-

It’s Minho who greets Kibum at the door, even though he was certainly under the impression that it would just be him and Jonghyun tonight. He’s dressed up nice, potentially on his way out of their swanky apartment for some swankier office party.

“Oh, look who’s cleaned up so nice!” Kibum says, laying a hand on Minho’s elbow. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in something other than basketball shorts.”

Minho rolls his eyes, cups the back of Kibum’s neck and brings him in to kiss him right on the forehead. “I missed you too, you goon.”

It’s been a while since the two have had the opportunity to get together, with Minho’s acting career taking off and Kibum running all over the place trying to distract himself from the fact that one of his most cherished friendships was about twelve times more complicated than it was a few weeks ago.

But Minho’s been such a steady fixture in his life that it was always nice to see him, even if he was frustrating beyond belief.

“Is Jjong home?” Kibum asks, peeking his head into their apartment and toeing inside.

“No, he’s coming back from the studio. Was recording with Jinki, I figured you would've know that.” Minho grabs his keys off the hook next to their front door. “He should be home in like ten minutes. Don’t scratch the place up while I leave you alone. Roo’s on our bed sleeping if you need company.”

Kibum purses his lips, looking around the corner. “Alright, I’ll be here then. I’ll text him so he doesn’t think someone broke in.”

“Good idea,” Minho says, wrapping a long arm around Kibum’s shoulders for another hug and kiss on the forehead. He’s gotten a lot touchier over the years. It's not something Kibum minded. 

And when Minho leaves, Kibum’s left to walk around their apartment, essentially a member of their family, looking around at the picture frames and trinkets they have lying around.

Their apartment is nice and clean, but definitely lived-in. Their decor is so domestic, and there are dog beds everywhere so Roo can sleep wherever she falls. 

There are some pictures of their trip to Jeju in his and Minho’s second year, when they’d already met Taemin and Sunyoung and Taeyeon and gathered them into their friend group. Others are pictures from over the years, some from the wedding, awards they’ve won together and apart. Pictures of Jonghyun with his first album, Minho holding his nieces and nephews.

Kibum had always wanted a place like this. A home that was a love letter to his life, something that was personal and stylistic, a place he could share with someone.

He’s lived alone since he got the chance to after college, separating himself responsibly and safely from Minho’s grasp before he lost his mind.

Distantly, Kibum thinks that if he could ever live with someone again, it would be Jinki.

The apartment door swings open and Kibum can hear the unmistakable sound of Roo hopping off the bed and pitter-pattering her way to greet her father, only stopping for a moment at Kibum’s slippers to sniff.

“Kibum?” Jonghyun calls out into the apartment, and Kibum walks back over to the entrance.

It’s been a minute since he’s gotten to see Jonghyun as well, busy working on his new album. The older they get, the busier they are, even though all of them live in the same few areas. It doesn’t bother him as much, as long as he can hug him when he needs to.

And right now, more than anything, Kibum needs to.

Even though Minho was Kibum’s roommate, and Jinki was his first friend, and he still sees Taemin almost more than any of them, Jonghyun has always been just about the first person Kibum goes to with a crisis. His embrace is something special.

Kibum sighs, relieved, into the dip of Jonghyun’s collarbone. Roo jumps and scratches at their shins.

“You doing okay?” Jonghyun asks, even though Kibum’s almost positive he knows the answer.

Kibum sighs again. Right about now, if Jinki were also there, he would call Kibum dramatic. Instead of answering, he asks a question of his own. “How was recording? With Jinki?”

“It was alright! He did amazing,” Jonghyun says, excited to talk about it but clearly hiding something, the way Jonghyun does. “He’s been a little tired lately. A little out of it.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

Jonghyun pulls away and sets his things down. He motions for Kibum to relax on the couch while he gets them both some water from the kitchen, and Kibum waits like he’s told.

When Jonghyun comes back, he sits on the couch next to him, pulls his legs up so they’re crossed and he’s cozy. Kibum loves seeing him like this. “So did you want to talk about what’s going on with Jinki, then? Or no? Because you have like two weeks until your birthday.”

He purses his lips. It’s just about all he knows how to do in situations like these. Especially considering Jonghyun can be just as blunt and to the point as Kibum can.

“Do you think it’s my fault that the dates are going badly?” Kibum asks, wrapping his hands around the glass like it’s something warm or delicate. “Like, do you think he’s mad because I don’t know him well enough?”

There’s a second, very briefly, where the look in Jonghyun’s eyes can only be described as _pity_. Which is just the worst.

“I think,” Jonghyun starts, carefully, like Kibum won’t understand unless he speaks in slow motion. Which is fair. “If you don’t want to go through with the marriage pact, you need to be honest with him.”

“What if this has nothing to do with the marriage pact?” Kibum asks, even though they’re both well aware that that’s not true.

Jonghyun’s eye contact is unwavering. “But it does, doesn’t it?”

Kibum feels his throat get a little watery, despite himself. “What if I want to go through with it?”

They’re silent for a moment when Roo comes up in between them to nose at Kibum’s chin, wagging her tail in between their faces. He can’t help but laugh and pet her, let her lick his hand. He doesn’t look back at Jonghyun for a moment, afraid to see more pity.

“This might be a stupid question,” Jonghyun starts again. “But if you _do_ want to go through with the marriage pact, then why are you setting him up on two dates a week?”

“I don’t want him to, you know.” Kibum struggles to say it, knowing it will make him sound more or less pathetic. “Feel like he’s obligated to be with me. Over something as stupid as a marriage pact we made in college.”

“Babe,” Jonghyun says then, and it’s not quite pity this time. He can’t quite place it. “Just talk to him. You know he values honesty. And I know you do too. You know not to assume what’s best for him, even if you’ve tricked yourself into believing you know better.”

Kibum sits for a moment, then, letting it wash over him.

While Jonghyun puts on the horror movie that he had come over to watch in the first place, he makes one last comment. The phrasing of it gets caught in Kibum’s head for the next several days.

“You’re just about the greatest pair I’ve ever met. I can’t stand the thought of you guys losing each other just because you don’t know how to navigate your feelings. And I know neither of you could stand to, either.”

-

The second time Kibum went to the café, it was in the middle of a school day, almost empty. In the daylight from the street-facing window, he could really inspect the place, notice the texture of the walls and the patterns in the high painted stools at the bar.

He sat down at one, ordered an iced coffee, smiled at the barista, and watched the sun cast itself through the stained-glass windows at the entrance.

It was too early in the school year for him to have any real work to do, too late in the day to be stuck in his room, and too soon in his college career to really be with anyone else other than himself. Minho was a good roommate as far as Kibum was concerned, or at the very least a tolerable one, but Kibum wasn’t quite convinced he was built for dorm living. He wasn’t quite keen to screw it up, though, either. He figured the more time he spent outside of Minho’s hair, the better.

Getting out of his room, managing to step away from the little box he knew he could find himself in, was his best bet to stay sane. Maybe this café could be a new little box. At least it was a change in scenery.

Kibum wasn’t quite sure what possessed him to leave so early for his class when he knew it wasn’t for another hour, and he wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there before the wind chimes above the entrance jangled.

“Can I get an iced green tea?”

Kibum had convinced himself at this point in his life that he was generally skilled at minding his own business, despite whatever temptation there was (and there always was, something that washed completely over him despite best efforts to remain floating).

Regardless, after a moment of restless hesitation, he managed to do the opposite of that. “Hey, you’re that guy from a few weeks ago!”

The other student, Jinki, looked up from his hands, small and clutched around a day planner. His eyes were wide and a little nervous, a little reserved. “Hm?”

“You sang at the open mic!” Kibum said, and Jinki’s face softened.

It was a lovely sight, the way his smile grew gently across his face, the way he sipped his iced green tea when he’d finally received it.

“I did. Did you like it?” Jinki’s speaking voice was sweet and almost confident. The way he was the first weekend, when it was so clear he knew he was good at what he was doing, introducing himself with ease.

Kibum had to smile in response. “It was amazing. Are you in vocal performance?”

Jinki nodded. Maybe it was the sun, but he looked like he was blushing.

Jinki was particularly soft, at first glance, in the same ways Kibum was bolder, and vice versa. Kibum was extroverted in that he was able to start conversations like these with strangers, but was completely lacking in ability to talk about his own art. As the conversation grew on, Jinki relaxed into himself, smiling and excited.

“You’re a freshman?” Kibum nodded. “What’s your name?”

“Kibum.”

Jinki smiled brightly, like his name was something that was a treat to hear all by itself. “Well, Kibum. I have to get to class, but I get lunch here sometimes. The cook makes an amazing bibimbap bowl. So I’ll try to see you around, okay?”

Kibum nodded, smiled, contained like the freshman he was. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

-

It’s about a week until Kibum’s birthday, September weather settling into Kibum’s skin. He’s rearranged his closet for cooler clothing, he’s changed around his decor, basically done everything he needs to do for it to really feel like things are changing for the start of a new decade.

And if he’s done all of this in an attempt to busy himself until Jinki’s last date, he’s decided he’s okay with that.

He took Jonghyun’s advice, stopped setting Jinki up on dates. But there was one last one that he set up before their talk, one that he already told Jinki about, one that he thought it would be rude to cancel as a third party.

And he was a nice guy, someone that Kibum choreographed for. Someone that flirted with Kibum the first time they met and he nearly went for it. He was charming and sweet and had soft hands. He loved to cuddle, and he knows that’s something Jinki values. He’s polite and far nicer than Kibum thought he was.

He knew that there was part of this set-up thing where Kibum was just trying to see what parts of him that were lacking, that maybe Jinki’s dates would excel at. Some of the dates were more soft-spoken, or more self-assured, or kinder, or less stubborn. Things that Kibum didn’t even realize he was still hung up on himself for.

It’s a week before his birthday and he feels like a part of himself hasn’t grown up quite as much as the rest. Maybe there’s still a twenty year old kid in there that’s afraid no one, even his best friend, would love him.

He realizes that maybe he hadn’t grown out of it at all, just ignored it like it wasn’t there. It only occurs to him now that it’s not the same thing.

And he’s lost in thought, watching colors on his screen change without really acknowledging what they look like, when he hears his door open.

Jinki, honestly, looks a little bit frantic.

“Are you okay?” Kibum asks, like he isn’t worried out of his mind. It takes everything to not shoot up out of his seat and check Jinki for bruising of some kind. He seems okay physically, just a bit flustered.

Jinki rarely goes out like that, and is quick to compose himself. He looks like he’s been clenching his teeth for a few hours, like it’s tired him out down to his bones, and Kibum’s only seen him like that a few times over the years. He’s very much like Taemin, who doesn’t like others to see him too overcome.

Kibum can only wonder what happened to get him this upset. He doesn’t say anything else while Jinki settles into his seat, just grabs some water for him. Jinki’s always been bad at remembering to hydrate himself.

“Why do you keep setting me up on dates?” Jinki asks. It takes Kibum completely off guard.

“Um,” he starts. But it only takes a minute for his mind to start racing. “Did your date make you upset? He’s always been so nice, did he disrespect you? I swear to god, Jinki, I never would have-”

Jinki interrupts him when he speaks again. “Why do you keep setting me up on dates?”

Kibum stutters. Jinki doesn’t usually cut him off. And he doesn’t really know exactly what to say, even though he’d been planning on telling Jinki _something_ when he came over. He was going to say something to the effect of how the marriage pact made him panic because he’s afraid of being a burden, or something like that. He hadn’t exactly written it all out.

His words seem to be lost in his stomach, swarming around, closing in on his lungs, swirling around his throat. He sits down before he gets dizzy from it.

Too much time has passed for Jinki, apparently. “Is this about the marriage pact? Because I’m single too, you’re trying to pass me off to someone else?”

That stings a bit. He starts to say “no.”

“It was a pact we made when we were in college, Kibum. It wasn’t that serious. If you don’t want to marry me, it’s not like I’m going to force you to.”

That stings more.

This was exactly his fear: it was a joke to Jinki the whole time. And that’s fine, because he doesn’t know that Kibum likes him. How could he? Back when Kibum told Taemin how he felt, he said that even though it was obvious to him, Jinki would never figure it out.

Despite himself, he starts to feel tears welling up behind his eyes. This felt infinitely worse than if Jinki was being serious.

Kibum hates that it’s watery when he says, voice a little low, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just thought that,” and his sentence ends on an exhale.

He doesn’t finish, this time not because Jinki interrupts him. A part of him wishes he did, just so Kibum could get more time to formulate his words. He doesn’t know how to phrase it without sounding like he’s been in love with his best friend for years.

He values honesty, and he knows Jinki does too. He just doesn’t know that this is the right time to drop that kind of bomb.

“You knew what was best for me?” Jinki asks, voice a little tight. Restrained.

“No,” he responds. It’s quick out of his mouth. “I just thought maybe you felt an obligation to me because you’re my best friend. I thought that you would deserve someone better. If you were serious about it. If it wasn’t just a stupid pact.”

Jinki scrunches up his face. Kibum can’t read it. He doesn’t even try. He can barely see through his stained-glass tears.

Suddenly Jinki is very close, his arms tight around Kibum’s shoulders, a voice in his ear that asks: “why would you think that?”

Kibum feels his heart shatter down at his feet, because he feels small for admitting he feels small.

“I guess I’m not as mature as I let on,” Kibum says into his neck, waterlogged, almost indecipherable. “I feel like a little kid, who doesn’t think anyone would ever be able to make me happy.”

Jinki says, pulling back to look into his eyes. “Kibum, I went on so many awful dates because I thought it would make you happy.”

It makes Kibum feel like his head is filling up with water. He can’t respond to that. Instead he says, “I don’t think anyone would want to take care of me.”

“I don’t think you need to be taken care of,” Jinki counters this time. “And if you did, I’d take care of you.”

There’s a voice in his head, _shouting_ , that it’s too much work.

The tide rises behind his eyes.

“And what about loving me?” Kibum lets it come out of his mouth before he even wants it to. “Who’s going to do that?”

Jinki’s voice is firm. “I am. I love you, Kibum. You know that.”

“You know what I mean, Jinki.” The tide’s broken, crashing on the shore. He blinks away tears and then Jinki is clear in front of him, searching for something that Kibum can’t even begin to decipher.

He knows what he means. And he doesn’t love him.

Kibum knows his resolve is going to break again.

Jinki sits back on his heels and Kibum stands up. He pulls his sleeves down to cover his hands.

“I love you, Jinki,” and he doesn’t mean for the word to get caught in his throat, too obvious for his liking. “But I kind of want to be alone right now. Actually alone.”

Jinki’s face falls, and he looks confused and hurt, at least Kibum can read that. But he doesn’t fight him on it. He gets up, tucks a tuft of hair behind Kibum’s ear, and leaves.

-

The café was painted blue with light, twinkling from hanging strings, shimmering against his glass of wine. Kibum was still a few months from turning twenty and held the stem of the glass on the table with both hands, paying more attention to his new roommate across from him than to any of the open mic performers. It was easy, and the room was relatively quiet save for the shuffling of waiters and waitresses and the tuning of guitar strings.

There were a number of them, performers, with a reserved variety of acts: standup comedy, spoken word poetry, a performance by the school’s acapella group advertising club activities in the new school year.

And then there was this one kid, probably just barely older than Kibum, who sat on a painted blue stool to sing. Before he got started, he smiled for a flip-phone camera in front of him, bright and wide and blinding through the pool of blue light.

“Cute,” Kibum said, a little under his breath, before taking a sip of the wine.

Minho had a glass of scotch, swirled it around in his hand, smiled gently into it. The two of them had only just met, new roommates, taking turns dragging each other to events that didn’t seem too lamely school-sanctioned to attend.

The talent at their school was impressive, dedicated to performing arts, and the little painted barstools the acts sat on seemed like a goal to reach more than anything. He felt hyper aware of himself, surrounded by other freshmen gazing at the list of acts showing off at the makeshift talent show, so clearly new with their matching lanyards and short haircuts and wide eyes.

“My name is Lee Jinki,” that one kid said, honey-voiced, eyes gliding around the room. He had everyone’s attention. “This one’s a Kim Jonghyun original,” and the hand of the other student with the flip-phone shot up in the air, waving high in the front row, smiling just as proud and bright.

Minho snorted into his drink.

And it’s something Kibum would remember buzzing under his skin for days and weeks and months and years, the way Lee Jinki leaned into the microphone like he belonged to it, like it belonged to him. He held a shaker in his hand, keeping the beat, but it was background noise the way everything else in the world was.

If Kibum was the kind to be dramatic, and he was, it was like everything else faded into the background, until there was only Jinki.

The music itself was beautiful, the beat kept by the shaker was jazzy and sweet, and the lyrics were so careful and perfected, but it really was the way that they _sounded_ , coming from him. And it could have been two minutes or two hours under the spell of Jinki’s voice washing over him in steady waves.

Kibum was a tide, pulled instead by the sun.

-

Kibum hasn’t spoken to Jinki in a week. It’s the twenty-second of the month, and it’s almost midnight. There are no unread texts between them, only a few from Jonghyun that he honestly doesn’t even want to look at.

He’s being immature, he knows it.

Maybe that’s why he ends up walking to the park at the halfway point between Jinki and Kibum’s apartments. A little park with a stream running through it and a red wooden bridge that joins the two sides of the split park. It reminds him of college. It reminds him of home.

He’s always felt a little like he belonged with the water.

Ever since they moved to Seoul, there’s always been a park like this, quaint and within walking distance from where Kibum lived, that they spent their birthdays. Some years it would be the lot of them, other years it was just him and Jinki. But they always went.

Jinki would always bring him a little gift, a pre-birthday gift. One year it was a pair of earrings. The next year it was front row seats to a musical Kibum desperately wanted to see. It was always small enough that Jinki could hide it in his pocket and pretend like he hadn’t brought anything at all.

Kibum finds himself sitting on the bridge, bare feet dangling down in between posts with his shoes beside him, looking down at the water.

He doesn’t hear the wooden panels shift, paying too close attention to the rushing of the stream.

“Kibum?” Jinki doesn’t finish saying his name before he’s entirely turned around, having desperately missed it.

Jinki walks over, taking his shoes off as well and sitting down gently beside him. He looks nice, well put-together. Better than he last saw him. He shakes though, maybe from the cold. It’s not summer anymore.

They’re facing each other, and Kibum feels so warm, like there’s been a heat wave, like it washes over him over and over. Jinki doesn’t move to hug him, but he and Kibum both say at the same time: “I’m sorry.”

It’s simple like that. Sometimes it is. They’ve both been meaning to hear it, they’ve both been meaning to say it. And yet neither of them were willing to make the move to.

Kibum desperately wants to go first. “I’m sorry for being a handful.”

“You’re not,” Jinki starts, and this is the kind of thing Jinki would usually interrupt him for. But he doesn’t want to let him.

“Let me finish. I’m sorry for pushing you. I’m sorry for letting my own insecurities let me believe I knew better than you could know yourself. That’s unfair to you,” Kibum breathes it out, trying not to cry.

Jinki lays a hand on Kibum’s arm, the way he does. “Can I go now?”

Kibum nods.

“You’re not a handful, really,” Jinki says, and Kibum tries not to scoff. But it’s there, and it’s wet, and he can barely see straight. Which is a shame, because Jinki’s eyes reflecting off the moon is Kibum’s favorite place on earth. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize that the marriage pact thing would make you feel insecure in any way.”

“That’s not your responsibility.”

“But you really are my best friend, Kibum. I told you that I want to be here for you, and make you happy, and care for you, and love you,” Jinki says, and it gets Kibum’s heart to beat so quickly in his chest, he has to interrupt.

He says it quickly, almost in a panic. “I told you, I’m a handful. That’s a lot of work, Jinki.”

“Not to me,” Jinki’s voice sounds like bells. “Not if it’s you.”

Kibum can hear his heart breaking in his chest again, like his neck will just stop supporting the weight of his waterlogged head, and he starts to cry. Because this is so close to what he wants.

“I didn’t realize I hadn’t grown out of this. Being afraid of something like this. Not until you brought up the pact,” he says, his throat closing up in retaliation. “I’ve spent so long working on my career and being so happy with my friendships and that’s enough for me. Nothing was ever missing. I thought I was content with that, because I know I can be. I know people can be. But I didn’t realize there was a part of me that just never realized that it was possible _to_ be loved.”

Jinki doesn’t respond right away. He rephrases the last part. “I never realized it was possible for someone to love _me_.”

It’s a minute before Jinki responds, clearly has a lot of questions, and can only ask one at a time. “Is that why you haven’t dated anyone in years either?”

Kibum almost laughs.

“No,” he says. He’s steady, miraculously, when his next words come out of his mouth. “I haven’t dated anyone in years because I’m in love with you. I’ve _been_ in love with you. For years. Since Japan, maybe longer.”

Jinki’s mouth opens and closes. Kibum fights the immediate urge to hide his face, or run away, or be any more of a child than he knows he has been for so long.

And then Jinki pulls him into a hug, which is better than nothing, Kibum supposes. He’s grateful, in that moment, that Jinki doesn’t hate him, still wants to be his friend, and isn't afraid of an implication that Kibum’s been in love with him for too long. His heart, still crushed underneath his feat, sprinkling down into the stream below him and crashing into jaded rocks, is grateful.

His hugs always seem to piece him back together.

“I brought something for you,” Jinki says, voice measured, almost a whisper.

“Oh, is this my birthday present?” Kibum looks at his watch. It’s right at midnight.

“It’s part of it,” Jinki says, pulling his phone out of his pocket, and some tangled up headphones. He’s never been able to keep a pair of wireless ones, and didn’t mind too much the way the knots always bunched up under his chin. “Put these in.”

And Kibum listens, because he can be a good friend too. He’s resigned to the fact that his tears will keep streaming down, does his best to put on the headphones and just lean his head against the posts of the bridge’s railing.

Jinki scrolls for a moment and presses play, and Kibum makes out the sound of a musical shaker. It’s simple and jazzy. It’s soft, Kibum has to keep his eyes closed to really hear it.

Once the lyrics pick up, Jinki’s voice is clear as day.

It’s a standard love song, is the first thing that Kibum realizes, which he thinks is almost like a slap in the face right now. He opens one eye to look over at Jinki, who motions for him to keep listening.

The lyrics are beautiful. About a longtime love. College sweethearts, Kibum thinks maybe this song was about Jonghyun and Minho. He thinks that would be sweet. A feature on Jonghyun's album as a gift for his relationship.

They continue, comparing the lovers to piano keys, to babbling streams. To cherry blossoms in Japanese summers. To the sun and the tide. The couple dances around kitchen tables, they have stubbornly consistent traditions. They remember almost anything the other person says. They love each other. They love each other. Over and over.

Kibum’s crying again, forceful this time. He can’t open his eyes. Too afraid.

One of them is strong and fluid like the tide, always moving for the other, but resilient and beautiful in their own right. They're both stubborn and so sure in their unsureness.

For a moment he lets it kick in. Lets himself recognize the song as a biography.

He lets the song play out, and when it ends it doesn’t play again. Jinki must have stopped it, must have been watching him closely.

He takes the headphones out of his ears before he manages to turn his head, hoping for too much.

When he opens his eyes, Jinki is still cross legged in front of him. He holds a little velvet box, almost comically recognizable.

He’s speechless.

“Kibum,” Jinki starts, and he has to quiet the waves crashing in his ears. “You are my best friend. You’re resilient, and smart, and so dedicated, and so caring. You are so stubborn, and proud, and headstrong, and frustrating, and you’re such a constant in my life. I can’t imagine it without you, and I never want to.”

Kibum takes a deep breath.

“I love you, and I’ve been in love with you for nearly a decade, and I can’t believe we’ve both been so in our own heads that neither of us realized.”

Jinki laughs, and because it's Jinki, and because it’s contagious, Kibum does too.

“And I know you’re insecure about this, so I want to give you time. So I’m asking you to marry me someday, whenever you want to, whenever you feel positive that you want to marry me too. I’ll wait for you, because I know I can’t just convince you of anything just by saying it."

Kibum's so relieved, lets himself exhale, and Jinki hears it too. It's warm against his lips, the feeling of not being hurried. Of being loved.

Jinki continues, says one last thing, because he's a poet, and because his sun refuses to set. "I want to give you my heart. Not because of a pact, but because sharing my heart with you is like sharing a star with the sky. It's already yours."

Kibum can only feel his swollen eyes throb and his swollen heart pound. But he can still hear Jinki's words, calculated, unwavering. He's never felt more sure.

He looks at the ring in the crushed velvet box, and it’s real, and it's beautiful. It's shining. It's his.

Jinki takes it out, little fingers fumbling with it, and Kibum realizes this might have been why he’d been shaking when he came out. And Kibum takes it from his fingers and slips it on, and it fits, and he kisses every finger on Jinki's hand and up his wrist and his arm and his shoulder and his jaw and his cheek.

He leaves a trail of wet lips and residual tears and gasps of disbelief, that he really gets to do this.

And of course they'll wait for each other, because they've been waiting for so long.

Jinki’s right there in front of him, pulling him in, a tide only for the sun, and Kibum kisses him, crashing like waves, slipping together in the undertow. Kibum’s arms fit so well around his neck and Jinki’s hands are soft at his hips, and every piece of them fits together.

Kibum says "I love you, I love you," and Jinki says it back, and again, and the words get lost in between them, caught between kisses, rumbling through their chests.

Jinki tastes like seasalt and mint, and his lips are plush and feel at home on his. Everything feels at home with Jinki, and he thinks maybe it always will.

**Author's Note:**

> To the Summer of SHINee mods: You guys are so fantastic. I say every round what this fest means to me but it truly does bring me so much joy that the SHINee ficdom can continue to grow with events like these. You guys are all amazing and I'm so glad you guys have given me the opportunity to be a part of it!
> 
> To the prompter: If you're reading this, I want to say honestly that the second I saw this prompt I knew I wanted to write it. Or rather, when I saw the required content, I knew that I absolutely had to write it. That quote means so much to me, and I hope I was able to incorporate it well enough. And I hope you enjoyed the fic!
> 
> To Freya and Mason: Thank you so much for listening to me asking for constant constant feedback and reading this over when I was just about done and it was down to the wire. I adore both of you so much.
> 
> To anyone else still reading: Thank you so much for getting this far. I truly hope you enjoyed! And that the non-chronology wasn't too hard to follow. I've never written anything like this before so if you enjoyed it let me know!
> 
> Follow me @chwesbian on twitter if you're into that kind of thing!


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